


Take a Chance with Me

by Mister_Fahrenheit



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: 80s era Queen, Angst, BDSM, Bottom!OC, Canon Divergent, Drinking, Drug Use, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Freddie Mercury Lives, Freddie's learning a lot, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Internalized Homophobia, Internalized Transphobia, M/M, Modern AU, Multi, Other, Past Abuse, Romance, Sex, Slow Burn, Top!Freddie, Transphobia, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, at least for the most part, because I'll never have it any other way, but with a little 80s thrown in for good measure, it's honestly really sweet and wholesome
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-09
Updated: 2020-09-14
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:15:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25809466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mister_Fahrenheit/pseuds/Mister_Fahrenheit
Summary: Truth be told, Oliver had never been a particularly reckless person. But when his best friend asked him to move with her over 4,000 miles away, he couldn’t help but take the chance. Now he has it all – a new home, a new job, a new life. Turns out, though, that life still has a couple curveballs to throw him and one in the shape of a certain famous frontman. Question is: is he willing to take this chance or is it better to let your heroes stay just that?
Relationships: Anita Dobson/Brian May, Freddie Mercury/Original Male Character(s), John Deacon/Veronica Tetzlaff, Original Character(s)/Original Character(s), Sarina Potgieter/Roger Taylor
Comments: 5
Kudos: 8





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everyone. Long time no see. Between being ever more busy with work, trying to pick up some new hobbies, and you know, dealing with a worldwide pandemic, I've had little motivation to write for fun lately. Regardless, an idea popped into my head a couple weeks ago after reading a bunch of fics and just wouldn't let go, so I figured you all might enjoy me making it into a reality. Inspired by several different writers and works, there's too many to thank individually so I'll give a blanket one. Thank you to all the awesome creators here on AO3 for spurring me on and filling my head with new ideas.
> 
> Oh and for readers of my other work, don't worry! That will be updated soon as well! Rest assured that it has *not* (and won't be) abandoned. It just might be slow going at times. Anyways, here's a new fic for you. Hope y'all like it. Let me know what you think. I absolutely love hearing from you. Grab the popcorn, kick back, relax, and enjoy!

Oliver Beckett had spent the vast majority of his (nearly) 25 years stuck in one of two places. Sure, he’d moved for college and work, but had never gotten to enjoy the thrills of real traveling. That’s why it was all the more shocking that he ended up here: neatly squished between his best friend and some random man fast asleep against his shoulder on a packed international flight. Life really was a curious thing. 

Unfortunately, said man rudely interrupted Oliver’s pleasant reverie with a loud snore and a growing puddle of drool. Ick. Oliver grimaced and tried to gently shake his plane neighbor awake to little success. 

“Mel,” he turned and whispered to his friend. “Mel.” Nothing. “Mel!” The man gave an unhappy snort at his shout and continued snoozing away. Amelia finally heard him over the noise of her headphones and lightly took them off. 

“What’s up, Oli?”

“Umm…” his eyes darted over to the man currently hanging off of him. “Do you mind helping me out a little?”

“Have you tried shaking him awake?”

“Yeah.”

“No, I mean have you really tried shaking him?”

“Well,” Oliver paused. “I didn’t try to give him whiplash or anything.” 

Amelia gave a not unkind laugh and smiled at him. “You’re too nice, Oli. Don’t worry. Watch and learn.”

She cleared her throat and reached over, lying a gentle hand on the fast asleep randomer. “Excuse me, sir?” She sweetly asked. After a couple seconds with no response, she suddenly gave him a violent jostle. 

The man’s eyes popped open with a start, looking around for the source of interruption before finally landing on Amelia. “Oh yes, hi. Excuse me sir, but you’ve been drooling on my friend here for a good 20 minutes. Could you not?”

Oliver blinked at her bluntness, but it seemed to do wonders. After that, the rest of the plane ride was relatively smooth sailing despite how long and uncomfortable it was. On more than one occasion, the food cart slammed against Oliver’s knees when Amelia and he switched seats, but even that did little to dampen his spirits. He was moving – and not just moving to anywhere. He was moving to London, something he’d dreamed about ever since he was a little kid. 

When Mel had first suggested it three months ago, he’d thought she was joking. Or at the very least, going on one of those “one day” rants that they were both so frequently prone to. But no, she was dead serious. She’d just finished grad school in France and was absolutely resistant on returning to the States after the couple years away. That just wasn’t her life anymore and she knew that Oliver was perhaps keen on it not being his anymore either. 

It wasn’t that he had a horrible life. He had all the essentials – a job, food, and a reliable roof over his head. On the flip side, it still wasn’t a particularly good one. His job had been wearing him thin from the very start with 60+ hour weeks, mountains of dull, uninspired topics, and a content coordinator who legitimately hated him (and was very vocal about it). Worries of job security led Oliver to stay, but it was making him rather miserable. 

Meanwhile, other areas of his life weren’t much better. He had little time for hobbies anymore, family was hundreds of miles away, and his closest friends were spread out amongst four different cities and three different countries. Together, it all added up to daily, bone crushing sense of both boredom and loneliness. Oliver had always dreamed of doing, seeing so much, but he was stuck and completely lost on how to get out of it. 

He’d always hated the rules: be smart, be practical. Chase the money, choose the good paying job, even if its unfulfilling. Create a plan and stick with it, even if your desires lead somewhere else. Always pick security over passion, safety over risk, even if it breaks your heart. He detested the unwritten code pushed on him and, well, everyone, but he still followed it. He knew the consequences of breaking the rules firsthand. Just by merit of who he was, he’d already violated them once before. He wasn’t wont to do it willingly and make things even harder.

Amelia’s proposition shattered his resolve, though. To quit his job, move to London, be roommates again just like in the old days – it was all a promise of adventure. A proper redo, a chance to start over and hopefully make better decisions this time – ones that opted for authenticity over acceptability. Or, in other words, a chance to live the life he wanted, rather than the one others wanted him to live. He couldn’t pass it up. So, he said yes. The visa application was started the next day and his resignation papers were handed in exactly two weeks before they took off. 

It was risky. They were both highly aware of that fact. Their plan started with “get there” and ended not too far off. No precautions, no safety nets, and no assurance that things would work out. Yet it was the best thing to happen to either member of the duo in years. Sparks of anticipation ran down Oliver’s spine as the plane staff announced touchdown time was just in another hour. This was going to be good. And even if it wasn’t, he somehow knew it would still be worth the ride. He’d gotten nowhere playing his cards carefully. Why not put down a wildcard just this once?

*****

A short while later, the plane had landed and Oliver and Amelia’s taxi pulled up to their new apartment. It was kind of nerve wracking. Neither of the two had gotten to see it in person, and both were praying to every potential god out there that the pictures and description were accurate. So far, so good. It wasn’t anything overly fancy or unique, just a typical brick walk-up. But just the fact that it matched what they expected and wasn’t crumbling to pieces made it feel like a huge win already. 

“Okay, Oli. This is it.” Amelia muttered while grabbing her bags. 

Oliver took in a deep breath, handing the driver what was apparently the right notes and thanking him for the ride. 

They walked up the couple stairs as the cabbie pulled away and Oliver went to unlock the door with slightly shaking hands. “Is it bad that I’m more nervous about this than our first go around?”

“No, not really,” she mused. “We already knew that apartment sucked. No surprises there,” she added with a wry grin. 

Oliver smirked a little. “I’ll admit, I was still kind of shocked by the orange and cream tile floors. Alright. Ready?” He craned his neck back to look at her. She nodded and they slipped in through the door, turning on the lights at they went. 

A huge sigh of relief came from both of them immediately. It looked just like the pictures. The walls were a warm yellow-y beige with nice white crown molding and it did appear fully furnished as promised. The living room straight ahead had the usual suspects: a big brown leather couch, wood coffee table, wall mounted tv, and a couple other bits of furniture here and there. It was pretty perfect except for…

“We’re going to need some bookshelves.” Mel completed Oliver’s thought. Yeah, that would be one of the first priorities. Two English major grads living in a flat without shelf space sounded like a disaster waiting to happen, not to mention the fact Mel was also a French double major. That meant even more books to contend with. 

“Did you get any shipped over?” 

“No, it was already a pain getting everything else figured out. I tried to keep any furniture to a minimum.” Oliver replied. 

“Same here. Guess we’ll need to make a trip out soon.”

Oliver gave a noise of affirmation and started looking around a bit. 

Directly off the living room was a bathroom and also a bedroom. It was bare barring the bed and a nightstand, but Oliver was pleased to see that there wasn’t any mold or water damage. Been there, done that. The kitchen to the right of the living area was in similarly good condition. White countertops were solid, the deep green cabinets actually looked shockingly nice in the space, and all the needed appliances were provided. 

Mel wandered out of the bedroom attached to the kitchen. “Look, Oli.” She pointed to a cabinet. “They’re not falling off the hinges!” She grinned. Another thing they had gone through before with their previous apartment together. As soon as they had walked in the first time, a cabinet door had fallen straight to the floor. If that didn’t sum up that the Campus Lodge experience, Oliver didn’t know what would. 

He laughed. “Wonder if this fridge’s gonna stop working in the middle of summer.”

“Or if the facet will break off within a week.”

“Let’s just hope this apartment doesn’t get infested by fleas.” Mel shuddered at the thought.

“Well, even if it does, look at the bright side. At least this one doesn’t have a dining table bolted to the wall.” 

She hummed in agreement. “My favorite part about that is the fact the upgraded apartments didn’t have that problem.”

“I never quite understood that either.” He frowned. “That table probably weighed a hundred pounds. Who the hell would try to steal it?” 

“Us dirty paupers, apparently.” 

“You know, this might sound strange. I know it was the absolute worst, but I really do miss it.” Oliver paused. “A lot of good memories there.”

Amelia smiled softly at her friend. “Yeah. Don’t worry, Oli. We’re gonna make a lot of good memories here, too. Thanks for coming along with me.” She added. 

“Of course, Mel. I missed you. It was weird going from seeing each other everyday to just a day at Christmas.” He sighed softly. “I know that’s probably a part of growing up or whatever, but…”

“It fucking sucks,” She finished.

Oliver chuckled a little. “Yeah, it did. I’d gotten so used to living with you and Luke. And living just a floor under Alex and Grace, of course. It just felt like it was over too soon.”

“It definitely was. I don’t think any of us were ready to leave our little queer commune.” She admitted.

“Is it really a queer commune if there’s a straight person there?” Oliver joked. A little levity was nice. He loved all his friends dearly. Talking about the day they had to finally split up into their separate corners always left him with an uncomfortable lump in his throat.

“I don’t count.”

“And why not?”

“Because I’m a fag hag. Fag hags don’t count.”

“What? You’re not a fag hag…” He trailed off good-naturedly. 

“You, Randy, literally everyone else at the apartment. Joel…” She counted off on her fingers. Okay, maybe she was. 

The two playfully batted back and forth for a minute before settling into a companionable silence. It was nice to just be in the same space again. They’d long before established that they were platonic soulmates. They just worked. The same values, similar tastes and interests. Hell, they even complimented each other on chore preferences. Being outside of each other’s orbits had been rougher than they’d even expected and suddenly finding their way back felt good, adulthood expectations be damned. 

Eventually, Oliver decided it would be a good idea to get a start on settling in, turning to haul the rest of the bags from the front door to the living room. Before he could, though, Amelia stopped him with a hand around his arm.

“Hey, Oli.”

He tilted his head down to look at her. 

“I missed you, too. I know what goes on in that head of yours.” She gripped him tighter. “Never think for a single second that I missed you any less than you missed me.”

Oliver smiled at her gently. “Love you, Mel.” She said it back and they pulled each other into a warm hug. 

“It’s good to be back.” She craned her neck to look at him, still pulled against his chest. “That’s why I actually brought a little surprise with me.” 

His eyes flashed at her in a mix of surprise and excitement. It made him look like the 19-year-old boy she first remembered meeting what felt like a lifetime ago. 

“You got me a present?” She nodded in affirmation. “What is it?” His head cocked to the side in consideration. 

“Close your eyes.”

He followed along as ordered. “Okay, now hold out a hand and wait here for a second.”

Oliver heard her opening one of her bags, rummaging around a bit before she found her gift. She returned to him just a moment later and gingerly placed it in his hand. It was crazy light and he found himself confused as his fingers discovered it was some sort of card. 

“Mel, what is this?” He could practically feel her vibrating with excitement. 

“Go ahead. Open your eyes up and see.” She chewed her nails in nervous anticipation. 

His brow furrowed. “Tickets?”

“Not just any tickets. Read what it says, Oli,” Amelia encouraged. 

His eyes scanned over the rectangular bits of card stock and he read out loud. “Admit one person. GA floor block one, row one, seat 4. SJM concerts proudly present –“ his eyes widened in shock and he heard Amelia begin to squeak already. “Queen: Live at the 02 London. Saturday 2 August 2018, 8 P.M. Oh my god, you got me Queen tickets?” 

Amelia was full on jumping up and down now, squealing in delight. “Do you like it?”

“Do I like –“ he stuttered, his heart racing a million miles a minute. “No, I love it! Oh my god, I can’t believe… Come here!”

He yanked her to him and pulled her into a crushing hug, kissing her forehead repeatedly. “I can’t fucking believe it. I’m going to a Queen concert!” He shouted. 

“You’re going to a Queen concert!”

He paused abruptly, looking down at her with the biggest grin she’d seen from him in years. “And you’re coming with me.”

“Naturally.” She smirked. “Somebody’s got to make sure your soul doesn’t fly out of your body when you see Freddie.” 

His face hurt from how wide his smile was, but he didn’t care. Today was the greatest day ever. Yeah, it had all already been worth it. 

“Just keep in mind that the concert’s still a week out, though.”

Oliver groaned. “How am I ever going to sleep?”

“Don’t worry. The jet lag will put you out. And if not, I’ll just put you to work. Moving a bunch of stuff in will get you tired even if nothing else will.” 

“What a slave driver,” he teased. “While we’re on the topic, when’s our stuff supposed to be here anyways?”

“Tomorrow at…” she consulted her phone’s reminders. “8 o’clock.” She heard another groan from the younger man.

“They make those in the morning?”

She giggled. “Don’t worry. A day of hard work and you won’t have to see that time again anytime soon.”

He nodded and let out a breath. He didn’t think he’d ever looked forward to something more than this concert. To see Freddie, Roger, Brian, and John live, in person, was a total dream. And in front row nonetheless. Wait a minute –

“Fucking hell. I just realized I might get to touch Freddie Mercury!” 

Mel threw her head back and laughed. She’d honestly been waiting for him to realize that for the last couple minutes. 

“Now, now honey,” she patronized. “Touching rock stars is all well and good but only after you’ve finished all your homework.”

The edge of his mouth quirked up. “Guess I’ll just have to finish it all then, won’t I?”

She shrugged a shoulder with humor as Oliver shuffled away to begin the long process of unpacking. 

“Might as well get started now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A Queen concert, huh? Wonder what mischief these two are going to get up to? Well, that's for me to know and you to find out. Whatever it is, lets all hope Oli doesn't self-combust before he ever even gets a chance to see. Hope y'all enjoyed this nice little intro chapter and are having fun getting to know Oliver and Amelia. Drop a comment to let me know how you're liking it and what you think is coming up next!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big shout out and thank you to all who are interested in the story! Y'all are awesome and much appreciated. Anyways, here's the next chapter. We're still in the introductory stage, but I'm surprisingly happy with it. Let me know what you think and enjoy!

As soon as he crossed the threshold into the cool apartment, Oliver unceremoniously dropped his box down and threw himself into the nearest chair. Slumped over, head in his hands, light brown hair darkened and dripping with sweat, he knew he looked absolutely pitiful, but he couldn’t bring himself to care as he harshly panted.

“Holy fuck. What were we thinking getting an apartment on a hill like this?” He loudly asked his housemate.

Mel hummed lightly to herself, skittering around in the kitchen. “Well, pretty sure we were thinking ‘ooh shiny – and cheap!’”

He sighed. “Yeah, and I think I figured out why. We were the only ones stupid enough to rent this place.”

“Oh, come on now, it’s not that bad.” She chided.

“Not that bad?” Oliver lifted his head to squint in the direction of the other room. “Says the woman who hasn’t been carrying Swedish furniture up this hill all damn week. For something you have to assemble yourself, it’s really fucking heavy.”

“But look at you being such a trooper about it all,” Amelia teased, coming into the living room to hand him a glass of water.

He thanked her and quickly gulped down the contents of the cup. He truly wasn’t trying to complain about everything, but the week had certainly taken its toll. No matter how much the duo had prepared, the moving process was beyond frustrating and just about everything that could have gone wrong _did_ go wrong.

Most of their belongings had shown up late and what had actually shown up on time had been damaged in the process, leading to a few very stressful calls with customer service. After a total of six hours on hold altogether and almost as long arguing with several representatives, all Oliver and Mel got was an assurance that their claim would be handled in “a timely manner.” Now four days later with several games of phone tag in between, they somehow doubted that. Add on the fact that most of the apartment’s included furniture all decided to inexplicably break within their first three days there, and the picture of the week’s stresses became a little clearer.

Oliver groaned. “Sorry I’m being such a pain, Mel. I’m just hot and tired. Don’t mind me. I’ll perk up after a while.” He added kindly.

Amelia gave her friend a supportive smile and moved to sit on the arm of his chair, looping an arm around his shoulder.

“Well, if nothing else, you’ll be perked up tonight. Seeing Mr. Mercury in the flesh? If that won’t do it, nothing will.”

Oliver sighed dreamily and Amelia couldn’t help but giggle at how excited Oli got every time she mentioned the concert. “That man can make me happy even on my worst days.”

“I’ll bet that’s not the only thing he makes you feel,” she wiggled her eyebrows suggestively and Oliver laughed along as he felt a blush spread over his cheeks and down his neck. He didn’t even bother to form a retort. One, because she was absolutely right and two, because whatever he said would surely only make it worse. Better not to bury himself even deeper.

“What time are we heading out, by the way?”

“The earlier the better. Taxi’s probably out so it’s either the bus or subway for us.”

“And that could take a minute since we’re dreadfully unprepared?” Oliver added while Mel simply nodded.

“I probably should’ve looked up the closest route to the arena, but I wasn’t really thinking about that.”

“Well, we’ve been a little preoccupied the last few days. And we still have some time before the show to sort it out.” Oliver shrugged, getting up to get another glass of water. Before he could get far, Mel loosely encircled his wrist.

“Actually,” she drawled. Uh oh. That was never a promising start. “Would you mind doing me a teensy tiny little favor? It’s nothing, really.”

His eyes strayed to where she gripped him then glanced at her nervously. “Umm, I guess so? What do you need?” Bad question. He could feel it in his bones; was waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“Would you mind going back to the store just _one_ more time. I know I said that before, but this is it. I swear!” And there it was. Oliver sagged slightly against his friend’s insistent hold, already yielding before he even said yes. She knew he would, and he knew she knew. The askance was a totally unnecessary step, but he appreciated the pleasantry regardless.

“What did I forget this time?”

“Well, you didn’t forget anything, exactly. I just realized while you were gone that we could really use some crates for our extra records. See?” She vaguely pointed at the already-packed shelves that lined almost the entirety of the room. Three times the space that most people would need, and their books, movies, CDs, and records were already busting at the seams. Oliver had never really considered themselves collectors nor pack rats, but that was rapidly changing as the evidence piled up.

“Yeah, definitely see the problem. Okay.” He took a deep breath in, preparing himself against the onslaught of heat yet to come. The worst heat wave London’s had in years and it just had to coincide with their move-in date. Their luck truly was the worst. Oli made a mental note to never bother with lottery tickets. “I’m gonna head out then. Are you sure that’s it? Need anything else?”

“Nope, that’s it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Y – yes?”

A disbelieving look crossed his face. “That sounded like a question. Why did that sound like a question?”

“No, no. That’s all. That’s everything. No question here.” She nodded resolutely but uncertainty still managed to sneak over her features.

Oliver bit back a groan, mentally reminding himself of the concert tonight. If he just focused on that, it might make the rest of the day easier to get through. Or so he hoped.

“Okay, well considering I don’t buy that for one second, why don’t you just tag along? Then you can figure it out when we’re there.”

“Can’t. Lesson plans.” She pointed to her laptop sitting precariously on the edge of the coffee table. Right. Her first week of teaching was fast approaching and he knew she was stressed. He’d give her this one, even if he was 90% sure she was mostly trying to get out of any potential heavy lifting.

“You stay here, then. But I’m Facetiming you as soon as I’m in the shop!”

Mel agreed to those terms and Oliver snagged his phone before heading out yet again.

***

Sure enough, a couple crates were _not_ all that Mel wanted Oliver to pick up. By the end of his store visit, he had three crates, door hooks, a small laundry hamper, a six-pack set of adorable succulent pots, and a new yellow curtain – although admittedly the last one was all him. The checkout clerk smirked at him as he walked (or rather, shuffled) away, amusedly watching the younger man struggle to open the door. Just before the door shut, he told him to have a nice few hours before correcting himself to say the complimentary “have a nice day.” Oliver huffed a little but mostly out of worry the former would be more accurate than the latter.

Walking home was proving to be an absolute nightmare and the sun was beating down on him, making his hands slick with sweat. Every few steps he had to desperately try to balance the tall stack of purchases while he readjusted his grip, but it was a fool’s errand. It was only a matter of time before it all came tumbling down. Sure enough, about five minutes into his walk, it all did as he collided straight into someone walking his way.

He landed hard on the unforgiving sidewalk, immediately offering a slurry of apologies to the stranger.

“Oh man. I am so, so sorry. Are you okay? I should’ve been more careful.” Oliver stammered, attempting to move his stuff off to the side and out of the way.

“No, no, dear. Don’t worry. That was all me. I wasn’t paying any attention.” Wait a minute. That voice was so familiar. Oliver popped his head up as quickly as humanly possible, his jaw dropping in disbelief as he saw none other than Freddie Mercury standing in front of him, a hand reached out to help him back up.

Oliver blinked stupidly, just looking up at the famous frontman. He was even more handsome in person, his eyes a warm chocolate brown and skin a rich golden tan color. And, of course, his signature mustache was perfectly trimmed, the bow tying the dapper, regal package all together. He was beautiful. Oliver lightly shook his head and felt his face grow hot with embarrassment before finally taking the singer’s outstretched hand. Freddie tugged him up with total ease and Oliver was forced to stand on legs that felt like absolute jelly. Of all the things he expected to happen on this outing, this was not one of them.

“Are you okay, darling?” Freddie asked, his brows drawing together slightly. “That was quite the tumble there. Very sorry about that. I should’ve been watching where I was going.” His eyes lightly scanned over the younger man looking for any obvious injury.

“Umm, no – I mean, yes. I’m fine, Freddie. No harm, no foul.” He laughed a little nervously before flashing what he hoped was a reassuring smile.

Freddie gave him a grin back, his teeth lightly poking out from his lips. “Have we been acquainted before, dear? I wouldn’t expect so. I’d surely remember you if we had.” His dark eyes sparkled with mischievous amusement and Oliver would be lying if he said his breath didn’t catch at that, even though he knew the line was surely a frequent one.

“No, sorry to say first time,” he joked, his voice thankfully coming out smoother than it felt. “I’m actually a really big fan.”

“Oh?” Freddie said in faux surprise, a brow just slightly raised. “Of me?” It was obviously well practiced, honed after thousands upon thousands of fan interactions. His words both slightly teasing but also patient, quietly waiting for the inevitable affirmative that would follow.

Oliver nodded. “Of course. I love Queen – and your solo stuff.” He added. “Mr. Bad Guy is so underrated.”

A look of actual surprise crossed Freddie’s face briefly and he gave an appreciative sort of smile. “Glad to hear someone else think so. Do you have a favorite track off it, by chance?”

Oliver considered it just for a second before answering truthfully. “Honestly, I love the entire album. I actually bought two copies of it.” His blush returned. “If I had to pick, though, it’s probably either I Was Born to Love You or Made in Heaven.”

The older man hummed contentedly, apparently happy with Oliver’s response. “What’s your name, darling? I don’t believe I’ve caught it yet.”

“Sorry,” he smiled bashfully. “Oliver. Oliver Beckett.”

“Pleased to make your acquaintance, Oliver Beckett.” He extended his hand out for a handshake and Oliver took it, marveling slightly at how the singer’s hand dwarfed his own. “My name’s Freddie. Freddie Mercury.” As if there was any question. He must’ve said it out loud because Freddie gave a sudden, amused chuckle.

“You’d be surprised. Anyways, I’m very sorry for smacking into you, Oliver. Not a very nice thing, especially when you’re carrying – Oh.” Freddie’s eyes drifted down to the various purchases on the ground, clearly just remembering them. “Especially when you’re carrying such nice things. Here, let me help you with all this.”

Freddie tried re-stacking the crates and other items to no avail. There was just no way to keep it all balanced. “Christ, where did you come from with all this anyways?”

“Few blocks that way,” Oliver answered sheepishly. "Just moved in." 

“Well, I have no fucking idea how you’ve made it this far.” Freddie muttered. “How much further do you have to go?”

Oli gestured to the steep hill at the end of the street. “Just a bit over that. Easier said than done. This is at least my fifth trip carrying stuff over it today and it never seems to get better.” He subtly dragged his palms over his light wash jeans. He may have just been having a normal conversation, but it was with _the_ Freddie Mercury, and his nerves were still slightly sparking.

Freddie turned to look at the hill and scoffed slightly. “I think not. Way too much here for that. Here.” Freddie handed a few of the things to Oliver, taking the rest in his own. “There. Much better, now isn’t it?” He smiled smugly, his eyes lightly crinkling at the corners. “Alright then, darling. Lead the way.”

Oliver looked at him blankly, a vacant expression sprawled all over his face.

Freddie pointed to the offending direction, giving little nods at Oliver. “Damn thing’s a total nuisance with all this stuff. It’ll take you an hour trying to carry all of it on your own. And you said you’ve already had to do it today! Well, I for one, will not stand for it. So, let’s go. You said it wasn’t far, yeah?”

Oliver’s mind must’ve been playing at a quarter the speed of normal, his thoughts slow and sluggish. Was Freddie Mercury seriously helping him home? Freddie Mercury: legendary singer, worldwide superstar, self-proclaimed Persian popinjay, was carrying the apartment decor of, well, him? His brain just couldn’t quite comprehend that. So, he just answered with a plain “okay” and did as asked.

The walk was significantly easier now, although he still lightly panted at the heat and exertion. Freddie gave him a sympathetic smile. “You’ll get used to it after a while. Don’t worry. I remember the first time I had to walk in London more than a minute I about fainted right in the middle of the street. It gets easier.”

Oliver gave a noise of acknowledgement, looking at the man beside him. He felt incredibly self-conscious. Freddie didn’t seem the least bit bothered by the steep, awkward trek. It made sense considering Freddie’s constant movement and antics on stage, but it certainly made Oliver feel out of shape in comparison. Cardio had never been one of his strong suits.

He grimaced a little. “I hope so. After the last few days, I feel like my legs are ready to fall off.” A giggle sounded off beside him and it relaxed him a little. The two continued talking about random stuff for the last bit of the walk until they finally reached Oliver’s apartment.

“This is me.” He turned to watch the singer’s reaction.

The edge of his mouth curled up. “Much nicer than my first flat in this town, I’ll tell you that. Congratulations on the move,” he said, dramatically sweeping his hands out with a flourish. “I’m afraid I should let you get on with the rest of your day, though. I’ve already taken too much of it.”

“You’re welcome to any day,” Oliver mumbled, before shutting his eyes tight. He hadn’t meant to say that, but Freddie seemed to get a kick out of it on account of the low chuckle.

“I mean, you’re going to take up more of it today at least.” Oli looked up at him, his light blue eyes admiring the frontman for just a second more. “I’m actually going to be at the Queen show tonight. Front row seats, too.” The excitement thrummed in his veins. What a day. To first meet (no – _talk_ to) the legend one on one then get to see him perform. Perhaps his luck was turning around.

“Really? I’m surprised you were able to get tickets, darling. The show’s been sold out for months.”

“My friend apparently got them right as they went on sale. She got them as a present for me.”

“Hang on to that one, then. She has good taste,” Freddie smirked before putting the stuff he was carrying on the walkup’s steps. Oliver followed suit. “Well, I look forward to seeing you at the show tonight. I hope you enjoy yourselves. Once again, it was nice meeting you, Oliver.” Freddie gave a charming smile and Oli melted a little.

“I can’t wait. I’m sure it’s going to be awesome. And it was really nice meeting you too, Freddie. Umm…” he paused, lightly biting a lip. “Would you – I mean, feel free to say no if you don’t want to – but could we maybe take a photo? Together,” he added weakly.

“Of course, darling! Just make sure you get my best side,” he exclaimed flamboyantly and patted his cheek. Oliver quickly dug his phone out of his pocket, hands shakily opening the camera app. Before he could even ask Freddie what pose he wanted to do, he felt the legendary singer pull him close and wrap an arm around him, a strong hand gently but firmly holding his shoulder.

Oliver closed his eyes for a second, head swimming a little. Freddie smelled so good, something simultaneously woodsy and spicy but also bright and vaguely acidic. Strong and masculine and a little over the top, just like the man himself. His skin was warm and sweaty in the overbearing sunlight. It made Oliver slightly sticky but he didn’t care at all.

Freddie brought his face close to Oliver’s and softly smiled to the camera. Oliver tried to do the same, but he couldn’t wipe the wide grin off his face and clicked the shutter button before being encouraged to take a couple more so he’d have options. They held the same pose for the second, but on the third, Freddie unexpectedly kissed Oliver’s cheek.

“To thank you for your patronage,” Freddie reasoned cheekily. Freddie clearly appreciated his look of pleased shock before stepping back. “See you tonight. Have fun at the show, Oliver.” Freddie winked at him and walked down the street, hands casually in his pockets.

Oliver stood there for a minute, silently trying to get his bearings again. Even through a phone screen and an old YouTube video, it was easy to feel like Freddie was directly reaching out to you despite the years and thousands upon thousands of fans surrounding him. But to actually have his full attention, feel it first-hand and in real life? Next level completely.

Suddenly, the apartment door swung open and Oliver almost fell flat on his face.

“Hey, Oli. What’re you doing just standing there? Thought I heard voices talking.” Mel looked at him, confusion knitting her brow. “Earth to Oli?” She snapped in front of his face. His attention snapped back.

“I just met Freddie Mercury.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Literally bumping into Freddie on the street? Dream come true and total cliche, but also kind of a meet-cute. I wouldn't be mad at it. Next time we'll be getting into the concert. Wonder what surprises await us there? Stay tuned and once again, feel free to let me know your thoughts!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone. Sorry for the wait! Work's been busy and time is but an abstract concept to me these days. But I think you'll find this chapter to be worth the wait. I hope, at least. It's long, so buckle up and enjoy!

The rest of the morning and afternoon flew by with Mel forcing Oliver to recount what happened with Freddie a few different times, trying to get all the details. He expected mainly for himself, but he figured that it also wasn’t everyday she knew somebody who had an up-close encounter with a rock god.

The questions were still being thrown at him several hours later but were slowly drowned out by the task of getting dressed. They had less than an hour left before they absolutely had to be out the door and were still trying to figure out their wardrobes. It left Oliver feeling slightly rushed and panicked yet it wasn’t exactly a bad feeling. It just made him all the more excited for the concert to come.

“Mel, would it be bad to wear shorts? I’m going to be sweating my ass off otherwise.” He glanced at another pair of pants and threw them haphazardly on the floor. No. Not them.

“Sorry honey, but yes. Yes, it really would.” She called out from her own bedroom.

Oliver groaned, the stack of rejects piling higher by the second. “Joggers?”

“Absolutely not. Skinny jeans are the way to go.”

“That’s gonna feel so gross by the end of the night.”

“All part of the experience, babe.”

He sighed but followed Mel’s guidance regardless. Soon she wandered into his room, finding a place to sit atop his mountain of clothing rejects. He held up a pair of ripped jeans and she nodded exuberantly.

“What about the shirt?”

“Something Queen related.”

He rolled his eyes in mock irritation. “Yes, I figured that much. Which one, though?”

“Hmm…” Mel eyeballed his collection, flipping through a few on their hangers. “I think the black one with the crest.”

“It’s not too plain?”

She shook her head, her curled red hair bouncing as she did. “Nah. You’ve worn it so much it’s got a little vintage character. Besides, we’re gonna accessorize you a bit, don’t worry.”

“With what?”

“Well –“ Mel stepped out of the room, rummaging around in her own for a minute before returning. “Just what I was looking for. Wear this.”

She reached out and handed him a thin, red leather tie. He instantly recognized it, an impulse buy of his that frankly had some bad memories attached to it. He’d gotten it at his first (and only) gay club experience, a souvenir to celebrate a bourgeoning acceptance of who he was. He’d been so excited to wear it – and maybe use it in other, more entertaining activities with his then-partner – only to get a frown and a more than slightly disparaging remark in return. He could’ve sworn he’d thrown it out afterwards.

The thought was apparently written all over his face because Mel gave him an apologetic, guilty smile. “I know you tried to get rid of it, but I just had to save it. I didn’t…” She paused, clearly considering her next words carefully. “It seemed too important. I didn’t want _him_ to ruin this for you forever. He doesn’t get to do that. You deserve better.” Her words were soft, but her eyes held a certain sureness in them that left little doubt in Oliver that she wasn’t just talking about the tie anymore.

He didn’t really know what to say to that, didn’t even particularly know if he deserved her kind reassurance. It was no secret that his last relationship messed him up, but sometimes it surprised even him how the effect lingered. So, instead of trying to formulate a real response, he just gave her a small kiss on the cheek.

The corners of her mouth curled up hesitantly and maybe a little sadly as Oliver slipped the long piece of leather out of her fingertips. “I hope one day you know that yourself. Maybe this is the first step?” She looked at him slightly hopeful and he couldn’t help but nod along.

“Yeah. Thanks Mel. Love you.”

“Love you too, Oli.”

The two remained quiet for a few beats, both lost in thought, good moods dampened by the serious turn of conversation. Oliver began to silently strip out of the day’s clothes, both him and Mel watching him in the closet mirror.

The latter couldn’t help but consider her friend’s reflection for a minute. Oli was handsome, the perfect mix of smooth and sharp with his kind blue eyes, small but square shoulders, strong arms, and angular but slightly soft frame. His skin faded hair and boyish smile added to that. Oli’s personality was pretty similarly reflective, a peculiar mix of warm and edgy that he seemed to both revel in and resist. It was an interesting study of contrasts, but one that Mel knew the younger man struggled with.

He had told her in the past that he felt complicated enough, his gender and sexuality causing him enough difficulties on their own. He worried that anything beyond was too much to handle and it made Mel’s heart squeeze uncomfortably. Her friend deserved more than the hurt he’d received over the years. Unfortunately, that was something she couldn’t do much about. All she could do was support him, help him heal, and help him have a little fun.

Mel pulled herself from her thoughts, watching as Oli slid his binder and shirt on before clumsily hopping about to pull his tight jeans over his legs and hips. Oliver looked down at the tie he still had to put on.

“Are you sure I should wear this? It’s not too lame or costume-y?”

“Well, toss it on real quick and let’s see.”

Despite a slight pause, Oliver did as ordered, quickly making a simple knot. As he adjusted it on his neck, he couldn’t help but shiver a little. The leather felt nice on his skin, smooth and slightly cool to the touch.

“Hey, Ol?” Oliver turned around to look at her, noticing a mischievous grin pop up on Amelia’s face.

“Yeah?”

“You told Freddie where we were gonna be tonight, right?”

Oliver nodded an affirmative and Mel’s grin grew even bigger before raising an eyebrow suggestively.

“You’re fucking hot. Mr. Fahrenheit isn’t going to be able to take his eyes off you tonight.”

The compliment and levity immediately brought the energy back up, and Oliver couldn’t stop the hearty laugh and intense blush that came over his features.

“Yeah?”

“Oh yeah. Definitely. Come on.” She gestured to his pile of shoes. Grab your shoes and let’s get this show on the road.” 

***

“Dear lord. That was probably the worst train ride I’ve ever had.” Mel mumbled under her breath, as she led the charge to their section.

“Yeah, it definitely wasn’t one of the best.” Oliver grimaced a little at the thought. “Why was that guy staring at me like that? I couldn’t tell if he was angry, hitting on me, or wanting to mug me.”

“Whose to say that it wasn’t all three?”

Oliver stopped walking for a second, concern rolling over his face. “You think so?”

“Well, they’re not entirely mutually exclusive…”

He stammered a bit before shaking it off. “And what about that old lady?”

“What old lady?” Mel asked distractedly, glancing back at her friend.

“Uhh, the one that was literally eating a bowl of cereal and asked if I wanted some of her Applejacks? How could you forget that?”

“Oh yeah. Sorry, I was distracted by the one on the phone who kept telling her daughter what a disappointment she is. I thought she’d be done after 20 minutes but I guess not.”

“That’s like wicked hate right there,” Oliver mused.

Amelia sighed and rubbed her head. “I think that was even worse than that train ride I had in Belgium. No, strike that. I’m sure of it.”

“Wait. Wasn’t that the one where some homeless guy kept trying to grope you?”

“Yup.” She popped the ending of the word, face lighting up as they finally found their spots. “Whoa –“ She grabbed Oliver’s wrist and tugged him beside her, his jaw dropping as he looked at the stage.

“I knew we were front row but, wow. Oh my god. We are front row, front row.” He said in awe. “Honestly, I’m kind of worried that we’re gonna be close enough to get stabbed by a guitar string if Brian breaks one.”

“Don’t worry, honey. I think the much bigger threat is Freddie poking your eye out with his massive – well – you know. Not that you’d mind, would you?”

She gave Oliver a sultry smile and he gave a rare, flamboyant one back, lightly shrugging a shoulder coyly before making a comment that there were other places he’d rather it poke. Amelia gasped, pretending to be scandalized and the two went back and forth for a bit. It was good fun and some they hadn’t had in a while. The excitement of the night and environment were doing wonders to loosen him up. If he could’ve bottled the feeling, he would’ve.

Soon enough, though, the rest of the stadium filled out, the lights went down, and the air began to crackle with anticipation. Oliver felt like his whole body was vibrating and everyone else seemed to feel the same, pumped and cheering before the band ever even appeared. It was like a roller coaster ride that just kept going up and up, with no end in sight. It left him breathless – and the night was just getting started.

Right when he thought he couldn’t take the ascent anymore, the first notes from the Red Special thundered out and Freddie literally sprinted onto the stage, smoke rolling around him and his half mic stand held above his head like a trophy. The roar of the crowd was absolutely earthshaking. Oliver felt like his teeth were about to rattle out of his jaw just from the noise of it all, but he couldn’t bring himself to care one bit because he was right alongside them. Cheering just as loud, immediately jumping up and down as Brian appeared, playing the opening riff to One Vision like his life depended on it.

_One man, one goal_

_Ha! One mission_

_One heart, one soul_

_Just one sore loser_

_One flash of light_

_Yeah, one god, one vision!_

Freddie finished the line, throwing up a fist and scanning the entirety of the crowd like a king surveying his land. Oliver had seen him do it a million times on video, but seeing it firsthand makes him scream along with everyone else until his lungs burned.

As the legendary frontman continued the song, Oliver could see the unabashedly wide grin on his face and quickly found a similar one plastered all over his own face as if Freddie’s joy was directly transferred to him. He was sure he’d never been fonder of someone he didn’t really know, and it made his chest ache in the best way possible.

Brian’s solo and the entirety of Tie Your Mother Down then took that in an entirely different direction. The ever-growing, frantic pace of the guitar and the impossibly deep sound of the drums made Oliver’s heart beat hard enough to damn near crack his ribs, and Freddie’s insistent strutting and belting vocals made pure, raw adrenaline flood his veins all at once. No amount of tying him down could’ve kept him from moving, dancing, jumping around like an absolute lunatic.

_All your love tonight._

_Hey – All your love tonight!_ Freddie posed center-stage, yellow-jacket-clad arm raised as he belted out the line and Roger gave a blisteringly fast drum roll to close it out. The crowd went ballistic and a stream of sweat dripped down Oliver’s jaw as he yelled along with them. 

_Yeah, give it to me!_ A final dramatic pose and a few perfectly timed explosions went off, flooding the front stage in a thin cloud of smoke. Freddie gave an enthusiastic cheer himself, nodding at the crowd with a happy smile before directly locking eyes with Oliver in first row. Oli’s breath caught in his throat as he saw a look of recognition pass over the gorgeous singer’s face. Freddie’s smile then widened and he lightly bowed, still maintaining eye contact younger man all the while. Beside him, he could hear Mel’s excitable squeaks about it, but he couldn’t bear to look away at the moment.

It didn’t last particularly long, but it didn’t matter. For a few seconds, he was the central focus of the singer, and it felt more intense than it had any right to be. Two times in one day. Oliver didn’t know what he’d done to deserve this, but he hoped to god he’d do it again soon.

The new few songs in the set were just as thrilling as the ones that came before it. Gods revisited surprised him and Under Pressure and Dust also blew him out of the water, Freddie’s impromptu ‘Ay-Ohs’ getting him beyond hyped to then slam him back down with Who Wants to Live Forever. It was an emotional roller coaster that left him raw and thrumming with a strangely agonizing anxiousness. Unfortunately, others seemed to be experiencing the same thing, but they weren’t letting the feeling ride, trusting the band knew where to take it from here.

Instead, the good energy and crowd camaraderie from earlier in the concert morphed into something restless and ugly. A loud argument broke out just a few rows behind Oliver and Amelia while someone started shoving those close to them in the back of the crowd. Jeers started ringing out from left center, and before Oliver even had time to process it, a massive fight broke out, leaving security scrambling to reassert order. It wasn’t working.

Oli looked up at the stage in time to see Freddie scrambling to get a mic.

“Hey, hey, hey! Listen darlings, listen. We know you’re excited, but you’ve got to stop this. Okay? You’re ruining this for everyone around you.”

A few cheers could be heard, but they were quickly drowned out as the fighting escalated. Whoever started it didn’t matter anymore, because it had grown far beyond their petty squabble. Whole rows were quickly being swallowed up into the conflict and it seemed to be getting worse by the second.

“Guys, come on. Stop it. Calm down a bit. There’s no reason to fight.” Freddie came close to the edge of the stage, surveying the state of the crowd. Even in the dim lighting, Oliver could clearly see the helplessness written all over his face. “Cut it out right now. Please. This is stupid. We don’t like it like this.”

Despite the frontman clearly working hard to control the situation, it seemed to just stoke the fires that much more. A roar of yelling soon erupted, and Oliver felt pushing at his back. He looked behind him, his jaw dropping in disbelief. The previously peaceful, interconnected sea of bodies was completely gone, looking much more like a mob than anything now. It was like the biggest mosh pit he’d ever seen, but one out for infinitely more blood.

Every which way he looked, somebody was throwing a punch or rolling around on top of another. And the ones that weren’t were making a mad dash for the less violent areas of the stadium. It was beyond chaos. A complete and utter bloodbath. Oli was suddenly more thankful than ever that he was in Britain because he had no doubt a gun would’ve already been drawn had they been in the States.

Oliver was quickly broken out of his thoughts by a frazzled Amelia.

“Oli, what the hell should we do now? Just wait for it to die down?”

He frantically looked around but could tell little through the haze of movement. He briefly registered hearing someone groan in pain right behind him before spotting some space towards the edges of the arena floor.

“No, there’s no telling how much worse this’ll get. We need to get somewhere a littler calmer. There.” He pointed to the area he saw. “Head that way and if we get separated, call me. Okay?” He had to yell over the noise, his ears already painfully ringing. He saw Mel nod her head and tried to follow her through the throng of people. His friend was making pretty good progress, but he soon found himself falling behind. The violence was still steadily ramping up and moving through the hoard was like moving through molasses.

Every which way, he found himself getting pushed and kicked and grabbed. He gritted his teeth, attempting to shove his way past but it was like pushing against a brick wall.

“I’m only going to say this once more. Knock off all the fighting. We hate it. Someone’s going to get hurt and we don’t want to see that. Got it? Cut it out or we’ll fucking leave. We don’t like this.” Freddie’s powerful voice hung in the air thickly, hovering just slightly above the commotion, but it seemed to have little effect. Oliver could feel his blood boiling and found himself shouting through the crowd.

“Hey, you fucking heard him. Freddie doesn’t want us fighting. Just stop!” Before he could even react, he heard the sound of glass breaking and felt a sharp pain sting against his temple. Stumbling forward, he simultaneously felt a punch land against his jaw and several sets of hands roughly pulling him this way and that. On the bright side, he was being pushed towards the edge of the venue and away from the center of the action. He supposed that was a good thing, although he had a difficult time processing the thought, distracted by the feeling of a warm, slick liquid trickling down his face. _Blood._ He vaguely realized. _My blood._

Pain exploded along his lip when an elbow flew his direction. Oliver winced as he tasted copper but felt a surge of adrenaline as he had an opening to get out of the crowd. Kicking someone away, he made a break for it and breathed a sigh of relief as he slipped past the side stage stairs and into a hallway. It looked like it led to the dressing rooms, but Oliver was grateful to find it blessedly empty amongst all the chaos.

***

Finally allowed a moment to breathe, Oliver let himself slide down a white wall and slumped his head against a raised knee. Speaking of his head, it was absolutely pounding. He lightly touched it and grimaced, feeling sticky red and small glass shards against his fingertips. Someone must’ve swung at him with a bottle. How the hell did they even manage to get that in here?

“Hey. Hey, are you okay?” All of a sudden, Oliver felt a warm hand against his shoulder, and he groaned a bit before lifting his chin.

His brows knitted together as his eyes focused on the unwanted visitor, confusion tugging on the edges of his mind.

“Freddie?”

Surprise flickered through the Persian’s eyes, before giving way to obvious concern. “Oliver?”

“You remembered my name?”

Freddie didn’t respond to the question, instead turning Oliver’s head with gentle fingers to look at the line of red running down his temple before glancing at the younger man’s split lip.

“What happened? You’re bleeding.”

“Well, at first I was trying to get away from all the fighting then I turned around and told everyone to shut the fuck up and listen to you. It didn’t go over too well.” He quipped, closing his eyes as his lip and head throbbed.

“So that was you I heard. Good lord. I can’t fucking believe this.” Oliver opened his eyes, noticing Freddie’s shoulders tense as he cursed. “What a bloody disaster. Wait a minute…”

The frontman paused, his gaze widening slightly as his fingertips brushed over Oliver’s injury.

“Is that glass?”

Oliver nodded weakly. “Think it was a beer bottle at one time.”

“For Christ’s sake. How did they even get that past security? That’s totally – I swear the next time, I’ll –“ He stammered out before cutting himself off. “No matter. Darling, can you walk?”

Frowning, Oli responded with a slightly cautious “yes" before being guided into one of the hallway’s rooms. Every step hurt but he was intensely grateful for it once the door clicked shut and the all-pervading noise of the crowd quieted. It made his brain feel slightly better, enough to at least push back the sudden nausea creeping up on him.

“That’s better, isn’t it, dear? Now here, let me look at your head.” Freddie grabbed a box of tissues close by, gently swiping one over the thick line of blood trickling down Oliver’s face. Oli hissed and the vocalist gave a whispered apology. “Sorry, sorry.”

The damage wasn’t as bad as either expected, yet it was still fairly rough. His skin was already beginning to bruise from the impact and the glass had sliced him open pretty good. A few small pieces decided to stick around (getting those out would surely be fun) and there was enough blood to turn stomachs, but Oliver seemed pretty lucky by and large. As far as head injuries are concerned, it was one of the better ones, and Freddie voiced a similar sentiment before someone barged into the room.

“Who the – Oh, Freddie. Oh, thank God you’re okay. I’ve been looking for you everywhere. Where have you been?” Oliver’s attention drifted over to him and he immediately recognized the man from social media. Phoebe, Freddie’s assistant.

“Getting through the bloody circus this has turned into, of course. Where did you think I was? I mean, really.” Freddie rolled his eyes slightly in annoyance. “Never mind that, though. Help me out here. I have no fucking idea what I’m doing.”

There was puzzlement clear on the PA’s face and he expressed as such. “Who’s this?”

“He’s that fan I bumped into earlier. He got hurt in the middle of, well, all of that.” He vaguely gestured towards where the mayhem had erupted as Phoebe moved to grab a first aid kit. “Some wanker apparently smuggled in beer and decided to slam the damn thing against him.” Freddie growled, standing back a little to let Phoebe take over.

A pitiful whimper could be heard when Phoebe pated antiseptic over the gash and apologized profusely as he began the slow process of removing the broken bits lingering in the other man’s skin. It hurt like hell, but the oddity of the situation and Freddie’s visible worry helped to slightly mute the sensation.

Eventually, the worst of it was over, his temple cleaned and bandaged, and an antibacterial spray applied to ensure his lip wouldn’t get infected. Phoebe gave Oliver a quick once over and smiled smugly at his work.

“There you go. You probably won’t be feeling very good in the morning, but you should be right as rain in a week or two.”

“Thank you, Phoebe. I really do appreciate it.” Oliver gave him as good a smile as he could, and the lightly graying man positively beamed at him. It likely wasn’t often that someone recognized him, being so behind the scenes typically, and he seemed to thoroughly enjoy the brief moment of stardom.

“You’re quite welcome –“

“Oliver.” He helpfully supplied.

“Well, you’re quite welcome, Oliver. I’m terribly sorry that it had to happen in the first place, though. Probably weren’t expecting this when you bought tickets, yeah?”

He chuckled a bit despite himself. “No, not particularly. I mean, I expected a show, but not quite like this.”

The other man seemed about to respond but was cut off by a loud ringtone. He tugged his phone out of a pocket, taking a moment to read the alert that came across.

“Apologies, Oliver. Some of the crew got caught in the middle of the scuffle and could use a few things. Duty calls.” His eyes swung over to Freddie who’d quietly been standing off to the side. “Security’s apparently settled most of it down. The rest of the guys want to meet in a few to talk about the game plan.”

“Well I’m sure as hell not going back out there. Fuck the lot of them.”

Phoebe looked at him patiently, nodding to support his choice but reminding him to tell the rest of the band. Freddie made a non-committal noise and not-unkindly waved the assistant off. The singer’s quiet mood returned full force once it was just the two of them again, and he looked at the ground pensively before meeting Oli’s eyes.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m a little sore, but that’s okay. I’ll be fine.”

Freddie sighed, his tense shoulders beginning to sag a little. “What a shit show. Fucking embarrassing. That was one of the worst nights we’ve ever had.” He then groaned loudly, tiredly rubbing his eyes.

The younger man couldn’t help but feel his heart ache for the vocalist. He knew how passionate he was about his fans. He always wanted to put on a perfect show for them, make them have a great time and forget their troubles for a couple hours. The fight completely blew that to hell and Oli could see how it hurt him.

“If it makes you feel any better, it definitely made for a memorable night. I’ll never forget my first Queen show now.” Oliver joked, trying to lighten the man’s mood.

It appeared to work, the edges of Freddie’s mouth quirking up at the comment. “Well, that’s worth something, I suppose.” He took a breath, considering something for a moment. “Was it really your first concert with us?”

He nodded and Freddie got contemplative for a second before lighting up with a large smile. He didn’t even cover his teeth.

“We’re playing another show here tomorrow. Last gig of this tour, which means it should be a hell of a show. Why don’t you come along?

“Seriously?”

“Of course! Darling, we can’t have your only experience seeing us be this travesty.” He answered dramatically. “You must give us a chance to properly rock you.”

“And roll me and get me dancing in the aisles?” Oli laughed.

Freddie’s wide smile somehow got impossibly bigger at the uncommon reference. “And don’t forget ‘Crueladeville you.’ Very important. So, are you free?”

Oliver felt his phone vibrate in his pocket, no doubt that a worried text from Mel was waiting for him. “Absolutely. Only if my friend can come along, too, though.”

“Ah yes, I think I remember you mentioning her earlier. Of course. Both of you come to the show, tomorrow.” Freddie pulled out his own phone for a second, quickly tapping out a message before pocketing it again. “And don’t worry your pretty little heads about the ticket situation. I’ll take care of that and make sure you’re right in front again.”

“Thank you so much, Freddie. That’s really nice of you.”

“Don’t sweat it, dear. Not a problem. If I could do this for everyone who wasn’t a bloody animal tonight, I would. So, consider it your lucky day.” The Persian chuckled, pulling a pack of Silk Cuts out and giving Oliver a challenging look as his eyebrow arched.

“They let you do that in here?”

“They let me do anything I want, darling.” He smirked, casually lighting a cigarette and taking a draw.

To their side, the door opened up again to reveal someone Oliver didn’t recognize. He exchanged a couple quick words with Freddie, handing him a couple lanyards before dashing off again.

“Ah yes. Very good. Here,” he held them out to the younger man. “Bring them with you tomorrow. Backstage passes for all the trouble tonight.”

Oliver’s eyes went wide at the generous gift. “Wow, Freddie this is awesome. But I… I can’t. This is too much.”

Freddie shook his head. “No, no. Don’t be ridiculous. It’s no problem at all. I want you to have them. It’s the least I could do. Consider them an apology for you almost getting concussed tonight.”

Oliver considered it for a moment but ended up taking them from the frontman gratefully. “Okay, Freddie. Thank you so much. You’re the best.”

He smiled at Oli and made a move to the door, no doubt needing to meet up with his bandmates. “You’re very welcome Oliver. Just show your passes to security before the show and we’ll get you all set up. I look forward to seeing you and your friend tomorrow.”

He turned to leave before quickly looking back at the younger man.

“Oh yeah, and wear that tie again tomorrow. I like it.” Mischief danced across his features before he smirked and wandered off down the hall.

Oliver stood there in stunned silence. He made a quick mental note to tell Mel she was right before he felt his phone vibrate yet again. He finally pulled out his phone. 4 text messages and 3 missed calls from just the woman. He winced, immediately texting the frantic (and now thoroughly irritated) redhead back.

He’d pay for this, he was sure, almost certain to get an angry, teary rant from his worried friend. Maybe she’d let him off easy if he told her every detail about what happened. Unlikely, but throwing a backstage pass into the mix couldn’t hurt. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Oli and Mel. They've had a long day. I'd feel worse for them, but it's really paid off in the end. Maybe the trend will continue? Guess we're gonna find out. Thanks for sticking along with me and hope you enjoyed this chapter. Stay tuned for more, and let me know what you think! Your comments and kudos are always thoroughly appreciated.


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